


Alcohol

by TheOtherCourse (kanevixen)



Series: Tom and Abigail Series [38]
Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Alcohol, Comedy, Drinking, Drinking & Talking, F/M, Party, Public Display of Affection, Romance, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-17
Updated: 2015-11-17
Packaged: 2018-05-02 03:03:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5231459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kanevixen/pseuds/TheOtherCourse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom is his girlfriend Abby’s plus one for a spur of the moment cast party, and she's enjoyed the soiree some before he arrives. Abby’s missed her man, and the alcohol only seems to intensify this need.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alcohol

**Author's Note:**

> “Tom!” Abby exclaimed brightly, tearing across the expanse between us from the entrance where I stood and the booth where she was knocking back the last dregs her drink. She bounded into my arms excitedly, wrapping her arms and legs around me. Her face was tinted pink, her nose bright red, her eyes slightly glassy, and her gait more pronounced, every step an exercise in mental dexterity.

Laughing loudly, I held my girl to me, taking great pleasure in her enthusiasm and her softness against me. “Someone’s been drinking,” I announced with a grin, as she kissed the tip of my nose.

With a show of innocence, she asked, “Who? Who’s been drinking?” As I placed her back on her feet, she made a silly face, with her tongue pushed out of her mouth before I laid a kiss on her moistened lips. I reached around and pinched her bum, earning a squeal in return. Placing her hands along my chest, she beamed up at me and it was utterly contagious. Enunciating carefully, she whooshed, “I missed you so much, baby.”

“Likewise,” drinking in the sight of her after a few weeks away.

“A fortnight is too long… you tell Luke… you tell him… too long,” she rambled, her cadence slurred. “I’ll tell him…” Pouting comically, she started to dig in her trouser pockets for her mobile to, no doubt, ring him and give him a piece of her mind as unfocused as it was.

I held her fumbling hands and delayed movements with my steady grip, and tipped her chin up to look at me. “Let’s save Luke’s scolding for later. I’ve missed you too, and I came to you straightaway, love.” I’d been away promoting Thor: The Dark World and The Hollow Crown in America, and couldn’t bring Abby along. She was beginning her next play and auditioning for a few others, and couldn’t get away from the first weeks of rehearsal. I returned just in time for an impromptu cast party, as Abby’s plus one, after being informed via text that I was expected to be there and she wouldn’t take no for an answer. The hired car delivered me from Heathrow directly to the pub that my girl had instructed.

Every inch of the bar against the right hand wall was occupied with thirsty cast members and patrons, the barmaid looking frazzled from the onslaught of people that normally didn’t crowd in during a weekday.

“Abby, my brilliant girl, where are your shoes?”

She mumbled something and waved noncommittally over her shrugged shoulder while flexing and wiggling her stockinged toes. Turning around, she slid her arms from my grasp, and took my hands behind her back to lead me deeper into the dark and loud atmosphere of the pub towards the back table, weaving, waving to and greeting people on the way. Bodily she pushed me into the cushioned round booth in the back corner, draping herself across my lap. Finally she kissed me with an audible wet smack on the lips and I tasted vodka cranberry on her breath.

“How many have you had, love?”

“Far too many for you to catch up, my beautiful man,” she said bonking my nose with her fingertip and giggling for doing it.

Chuckling, I shook my head at her. She was adorable sober, but irresistibly cute with the addition of alcohol. “How many are there of me?”

She snickered lightly, covering her mouth with her hand, the sound still escaping past her fingers. “Maths…” She dissolved in a full attack of the giggles, shaking her head. “I-“ Another fit of giggles. “I can’t…” And another. “I can’t count that high, but I love every single one of you.”

I kissed her temple affectionately, trying to find or remember one flaw in the woman. She was making herself laugh and it was the single most endearing thing ever. I wasn’t much for the phrase, but the chortling woman on my lap was the cutest creature ever to cute.

Reaching up, I combed an errant strand of hair behind her ear, stroked my hand down her hair in my way, and swiped my thumb across her inflamed cheek. The gestures brought her back to me, her sounds of mirth fading away to focus her attention back on me. “How was rehearsal?”

She froze, her expression went absolutely blank, and I could almost watch her brain attempt to shift direction. “Ummm… ummmm… uh…” She furrowed her brow, pushed her hair back, and scanned the floor in a sweeping motion across the floor, trying to find the answer. “Ummm… I don’t remember…”

Grinning again, I asked, “Do you know why you’re here, Abby?”

My very pissed girlfriend cupped my face in her hands, her eyes trying to focus through the alcohol. Disregarding my question or maybe answering it in her way as she interpreted it, she sighed, “I fancy you.”

I couldn’t mask or hide the smirk. “I would hope so, Abby. We’ve been together for two years, and I wasn’t gone that long for this journey.”

Placing her finger over my lips, she swallowed hard, shook her head, her mind wandering, reeling, looking for her thought. “No… no…” She huffed listlessly, knowing that she wanted to say something but the thought process eluded her in her stupor. “I was… no… hmmm… that wasn’t it.”

She was trying so hard, bless her, and she was winsomely charming in her drunken state. Abruptly she popped up with a jerk and interjected with an “Oh!” The action took both her and me by surprise, as she sat up, her finger pointing to the ceiling. I nearly lost her to a fit of laughter again when she stated, “Nope… it’s gone again.”

I cocked at eyebrow at her, enjoying her broken speech and stammering for the thoughts that wiggled free of her grasp on them. She sighed dramatically, “Oh, Tommy.”

“Tommy?” I could count on one hand the number of times she’d called me that in all our time together. “What have I done to deserve that?”

“You went in the pond without me.”

“Across the pond, love.”

She tsked, “That’s what I said, Tommy. You went in the pond without me.”

“I thought we were holding Luke responsible for that.”

“Ah,” she shook her finger at me disapprovingly. “But you went along with it, didn’t you, Tommy? You went along with his… whimsy.”

I quickly masqueraded my laugh as a cough, hiding my smile behind my hand. “My business trip is a whimsy? Oh, love, I adore every last inch of you.”

Happily she kicked her feet in tandem, dancing on my lap at the thrill of my words, replacing her annoyance from mere moments before. Snaking her arms around the back of my neck, she rested her forehead on mine. “I thought of you lots while you were away,” she murmured against my lips, the smell of vodka cranberry on her breath invading my nose. “I have a secret to tell you.”

I squeezed her body closer to me, intent on hearing whatever else came from her mouth. “I do enjoy your secrets.”

“I wasn’t really mad, I just missed you,” she admitted shyly, a promise of something else in her gaze.

“That’s not your secret, Abby.” She bit her lower lip and pulled away a fraction, her eyes shifting downwards coquettishly. “Tell the truth.”

“I want to make you hard.” She slapped her hand over her mouth for putting voice to her thought, a deep blush colored her face, making her even more attractive than the stuttering and searching for words.

Curtailing my shock at the blunt statement and the laugh trying for force its way up from my gut, I asked, “With a specific purpose in mind or just because you can?” Giggling madly, she dove into my neck, hiding her face in shame, the alcohol pumping through her making her bashful and embarrassed for speaking her mind. I caressed her back, coaxing her back out of her shell. “Abigail, you silly woman.” Her little chortles and guffaws in my ear made it impossible to hold back my own laughter anymore, from her confession and her soft sheepish titter.  

Her muffled voice spoke, her hot breath on my neck, “I want to, Tom. I want you to love me.”

“Right here in the pub in front of all these people, for all your cast members to witness?” She shook with the force of her silly laughter, her face still hidden, but I could feel her temperature soar. My Abby, the flirty demure sex kitten. When she was drunk like this, she regressed back into the shy girl she once was with me, while simultaneously increasing her sex drive. “Let me see you home then we’ll see if we can’t get you what you want.”

I hoisted her up onto her feet and followed close behind her, leading her towards the entrance with my hands on her hips. We made our excuses to those asking after us on the way out the door. There was nothing funnier than Abby telling everyone that we were off to have tea and biscuits with the Queen, and witnessing the look of confusion over each face.

We waved down a taxi, and as soon as the car pulled away from the kerb, Abby was all over me, the evening dark giving her confidence. She initiated a deep sensual kiss, insinuating her tongue between my lips, letting me taste her many drinks of the night before I joined her. Her skin was still flushed pink from the liquor and her arousal, heat radiated off her in a constant stream. Chuckling into the cave of her mouth, I broke the kiss gradually.

Fervently, she whispered lustfully, “I want you.”

“I can tell, but will you respect me in the morning?” I asked with a smirk. Abby’s half lidded, aroused expression slipped into desperately confused at my teasing in two seconds flat. The change in her demeanor pulled at my heart a bit as I didn’t mean to toy with her in her delicate state. “If I let you do as you wanted…” I trailed off, deciding that smaller words were best in her current mindset. “Let’s play a game.”

She brightened again, sneaking in to kiss my neck in small, feather light brushes. Allowing her more of me, I angled to give her access. “I like games.”

“Arouse me, love, without using your hands. In words, in action but only above the shoulders.” I could still connect with her, without feeling like I was taking advantage of her in her delicate temperament. We’ve had nights of drunken sex, of course, but usually we were both under the influence. Taking her to bed, even though she was begging me for it, while she was four sheets to the wind and I was stone cold sober felt off. My Abigail meant more to me than that.

She pulled back from me, ceased kissing my neck and looked into my eyes. “Challenge accepted,” she said with a grin.

As she lowered her head again to nibble along my collarbone once more, I murmured, “Say my name, Abby.”

“Thomas.” And she set about her task.


End file.
